Yet another commission, this time it's a DnD AU. I really had fun with this one. It'll be three chapters in total.
"Do you know how much gold I would pay to sleep in a bed tonight?"
"Something tells me you're about to enlighten us," Techno says. The kindling he has collected for the fire is less than cooperative. Must be those infrequent storms of the past week, rolling over these parts of the land. Spring has never been Technoblade's favorite time of year. Everything is damp and cold and very different from his homeland. It's just about enough to make him miss the damn place on occasion.
"All of it," Tommy answers. "Literally every single piece of gold in my pouch, I'd exchange for some blankets and a cushion right about now."
"Funny, considering almost none of that gold is yours." Techno frowns at the sparks that are refusing to catch.
"I stole it, fair and square," Tommy insists. "That makes it mine." He walks over and finally takes pity on his struggling friend, waving his hand at the makeshift campfire. Flames play around Tommy's finger, licking eagerly at the tender skin of his palms. Tommy smiles at them, greeting them as old friends. The marks on his skin burn brightly along with the flames as they drip onto the wood fluidly, fire moving in a way it has no natural right to. Bending under the will of Tommy's magic.
Techno is glad as long as he doesn't have to freeze tonight.
"If any of that stolen gold has made my purse lighter a bed is the least of your worries," he grumbles. Tommy's kleptomania aside, Techno doesn't take too kindly to being robbed. How ironic, that they take on jobs all the time that will pay them well but Tommy always refuses a reward on the assurance that he works for pride and reputation. Then he goes and takes money from any of the three of them if he needs gold for something.
Apparently, you can take Tommy out of the thieving life but not teach an old dog new tricks, or however that saying goes. Techno smirks to himself.
"I quite like sleeping outside," Wilbur adds then. He's rummaging through his belongings. "It's quaint."
Tommy frowns at him. "You'd say so."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Pulling out his lute, Wilbur strums the instrument for a moment, fiddling with the tuning pegs.
"It's normal for your kind," Tommy says. He clearly does not mean it as an insult, though this sort of talk can be interpreted rather gravely around the wrong crowd. When Techno first left his tribe he struggled a lot with learning what was socially acceptable and what wasn't. All the books he'd read, the education he had to endure as heir to the throne, it didn't really prepare him for the outside world.
Perhaps that is part of the point. To prove himself worthy by navigating such a precarious situation now. And Tommy simply does not care what others think of him and his blunt honesty.
"Didn't you grow up on the streets?" Wilbur remarks. "It should be normal for you too."
"I have better standards now. You guys ruined me." Tommy sits down and stretches his legs out in front of himself. They've been walking all day, so it's no surprise he's tired.
Techno chuckles. "I think you were already broken when we found you."
"Hey, fuck you!"
"There's unease on the wind tonight," Phil cuts in as he walks up to them. He either didn't realize a conversation was ongoing or (more likely) he didn't care to leave them to continue bickering. One of his crows is perched on his shoulder, the faint purple hue of spectral feathers standing out against the dim light of dusk. The rest of his flock has taken off already. The older man often makes them watch over them while they sleep.
Something Techno isn't going to complain about because he usually gets stuck on guard duty otherwise.
"Literal or figurative unease?" Wilbur asks suspiciously. He plucks a few strings. "Because if it's literal and you mean there's a storm coming, I'm going to side with Tommy about us finding an inn to shelter at after all."
"Figurative," Phil tells him. "You think I'd be worried if it was just some fucking rain, mate?" His voice pitches up into a laugh near the end.
"I don't want to get rained on while we're sleeping!" Tommy immediately complains, but Wilbur is still shrugging at what Phil said.
"When you can't tell the difference between a gale and the end of the world, that's a problem."
"That only happened once." Phil glares at Wilbur and Techno laughs again. He knows it's a touchy subject for the aasimar. Their race is supposed to be messengers to the gods. But since his patron is the literal deity of death herself, maybe Techno shouldn't judge if Phil gets the symbolism mixed up.
Either that or Kristin was playing a prank on him back then. Techno wouldn't put it past her.
"I just think we should keep our eyes peeled," Phil says before sitting down on the only log left free for him. "I have a bad feeling."
Wilbur clicks his tongue as if he's about to protest. Techno beats him to the punch. "We'll keep our guards up." He cares about Wilbur and respects the man in almost everything that he does, but his friend's careless nature is one thing Techno can freely admit to not understanding. Perhaps he cannot reconcile his own upbringing - a hostile and dangerous one with death lurking around every corner - with Wilbur's experience of the world as a beautiful place to roam around for fun.
Phil is more like Techno in that regard, his immortality and his sacred duty have shown him the worst of what fate has to offer. And while Tommy should know too considering his past, he's just an idiot. Careful is not a word in that kid's dictionary. So Techno feels some obligation to look out for them.
"We don't want to be caught unaware again," he adds. When he leans back, the scar on his shoulder pulls on the flesh, the fully-healed injury managing to play up at the most inconvenient of times. He uses his hand to press down on it and relieve the ache.
Wilbur nods and Tommy doesn't offer more than a shrug and a mumbled "It'll be fine", showing they know what Techno is referring to.
A mission to retrieve a lich's tome had ended pretty badly for them. When they got to the catacombs, another group of adventurers had been there gunning for the same loot. Not ideal, but not unusual either. A temporary truce had been called in an effort to get past the dungeon's more dangerous defenses. Heck, Techno had even been drawn enough into the affair to turn his back on somebody for once.
Big mistake.
Obviously, they had been betrayed and after being split up from his friends by a trap, Techno had come closer to death than he liked. Not close enough to actually get bested though, he had turned the pickaxe on the leader of the other party in the end - a shapeshifter named Quackity. Techno left a fractured skull and missing eye in his wake.
But it was a close call all the same. And worse, by the time the four of them had reunited again the tome had been snatched away by somebody else after all! So they didn't even get their due reward.
Months had passed since then and Techno knows something like that will never happen to them again. They had learned a lot since that adventure. But it isn't in his nature to forget a mistake. So he sometimes brings it up to make a point.
If Phil has a bad feeling, they'd be stupid to ignore that.
"We'll arrive in Neverwinter tomorrow," Phil says to lighten the mood. "So Tommy will get his wish to sleep in a bed and not be caught in the rain, Wilbur will get his chance to inflict his newest ballad on an unsuspecting audience, and I will get some damn peace of mind."
"What about me?" Techno asks jokingly.
"Neverwinter has an arena," Phil offers. "Fancy a bit of blood sport, mate?"
"Do you even have to ask?"
Instinctively, Techno finds himself reaching for his blade. The sword pulses with life when his fingers curl around the handle, humming in a tune that matches his own heartbeat. The voices are easy to ignore most of the time. They calm down at the spilling of blood though. Techno knows he has to pay them in sacrifice in exchange for the power they give him - it gives him.
Sometimes he dreams that he can feel the Blood God's claws scratching down his spine, waiting.
"We can get there by noon if we don't sleep in too long so let's not stay up and fuck around all night," Phil says. "I'm looking at you, Wilbur."
Wilbur freezes, fingers pressing down on the strings and cutting off his last note. "What is that supposed to mean, Phil?"
"It means you're not allowed to sing some horrific epic of fifty verses again that will have Tommy too scared to sleep at the end." Phil shudders at the memory, and even Techno nods empathically.
He had honestly liked that song, but it lasted for six hours. And then Tommy had insisted on sharing a bedroll because he thought the nightmare creature from the ballad would rear its ugly head and gobble him up in his sleep. It would have been funny if it hadn't kept Techno awake.
"Are you calling my singing horrific?" Wilbur asks, completely missing the point. Techno suspects he's playing it up for the bit, but the way his appearance shifts with his change in mood is pretty convincing. His normally brown eyes blaze alive with a red sheen to them and even the tips of Wilbur's hair darken a little.
Phil only laughs in the face of Wilbur's mock anger. "You're such a prick."
It makes Tommy choke on the sip of water he was taking from his flask, and in turn Techno can't help his own bout of laughter. He pushes his sword away and leans his elbows on his knees instead.
Thankfully, humor aside, they do all fall asleep not long after. The last thing Techno hears before drifting off is one of Phil's crows shrilly crying out in the distance.
"We can meet back up in an hour or two," Phil says, "if you guys are okay with that?"
"Sounds good to me." Techno watches Tommy slide up closer to Wilbur and catch hold of his sleeve. Goes to figure those two would set out together, and get up to all kinds of mischief no doubt. But Techno quite enjoys these few moments he can get to himself whenever they get to a town and run their individual errands.
Techno loves his friends but they're… a lot. It's all a lot.
"Don't wander off too far," Phil adds, unable to help himself. He is a mother hen at heart. Flock instincts, Techno thinks.
"We can look out for ourselves, Dadza." Tommy teases happily.
"Everything I know about you has me thinking that's a lie," Phil shoots back. Wilbur ruffles Tommy's hair.
"I'll keep an eye on him."
"I don't need anybody to keep an eye on me, I'm a grown man." Tommy tries to push him off unsuccessfully.
"You're even worse than him sometimes," Phil accuses, which has Wilbur sputtering in outrage.
Techno decides he can't take another comedy routine, he has to cut his losses. "See ya!" He starts walking away before they can drag him into more banter. Phil's chortling fades behind him until it's swallowed up by the crowds of Neverwinter.
He loiters the market square for a while, curiosity more than actual desire drawing him to check out the wares that are being sold. Techno doesn't want for anything. He is a man of few needs. But some part of him is painfully aware that once his journey is complete and he returns to his people to ascend the throne, his life is going to look very different. He won't be able to travel as much, and since his tribe is not known for being friendly to outsiders there's little chance he'll see many merchants pass by. Their trading laws are actually one of the first things Techno plans to change after returning home.
It wouldn't do to speak ill of the dead, but Techno would not become the ruler his father once was.
Before long he is drawn towards the arena. The Blood God whispers in his ear, sweet promises of power and bloodshed. While Techno prides himself on self-control, he's smarter than to tussle with a god whose life force he borrows. And rampant killing might not be his style, he still enjoys the thrill of battle.
The arenas dotted across the country where fighters challenge each other and show off their skills have become an easy solution to most of Techno's problems.
Wooden boards near the entrance of the arena show the schedule, advertising future matches. Techno has never made much of a name for himself since he doesn't usually stick around long enough to become a familiar face. But he recognizes some of the people on the flyers. More importantly, it looks like open matches are held every night. Any fighter can participate if they sign up and there are brackets for different classes and experience levels.
Heh, that actually sounds like a lot of fun. He should ask if Phil and maybe Tommy want to join too.
A shiver runs down Techno's back.
He spins around, the voices screaming loud enough to reverberate against the inside of his skull. Nobody else seems to have reacted to… whatever that was which Techno just felt. A curse? Somebody using an enchantment? He can feel the residue of magic prickle across his skin, more sensitive to it than most.
What the heck is going on?
Saying the eldritch invocation under his breath, Techno passes a hand over his face. He blinks with the changing of his vision, revealing the true face of any shapeshifter or other concealing magic. Invisibility, shadow walking, all of it. Everything has become slightly dewy, but one thing stands out in stark contrast - too bright, too sharp.
One person in the throng of people milling around stands out to Techno. They make eye contact and the other man bolts.
Techno starts running after him before he can consider if that's even a smart choice or not.
Quackity is fast, his small stature makes it easier for him to weave through the crowd. Techno sighs and speaks another invocation to himself. His fingers clench with the burning in his veins, blood heated and unpleasant when the strain on his legs falls away and Techno speeds up. The voices scream louder in the confines of his mind. Not only are they excited by the promise of a fight, but the Blood God is also well aware that Techno can only borrow its strength because he upholds his part of the pact. Blood for the Blood God and all that.
If Techno is using his invocations left and right, he's going to need to be feeding them in return.
And that's a worry for later. Right now Techno wants to know why the heck Quackity is hanging around Neverwinter and happened to be sneaking up at him like that.
Techno manages to catch up to him in the middle of the market square, grabbing Quackity by the wrist and tackling him to the ground. People around them scream out when they tumble. Techno isn't a fan of making a scene in public, but he's also not a fan of sneaky jerks who have tried to kill him before getting in his blind spot.
Quackity twists around and tries to punch him. Techno slams him into the ground.
"Mind explaining what you're doing here?" he asks, while Quackity just grinds his teeth and glares at him. A scar stretches across his face, leaving one eye milky and unseeing. Techno honestly thought he had killed the shapeshifter back then. But he hadn't exactly checked.
"What? I can't say hello to an old friend?" Quackity spits. He's not struggling beneath Techno, body slack and yielding. Maybe he hopes it will make Techno go easy on him.
The voices in his head are screaming but it's hard to make out their warning through the calls of blood rage.
"Friends don't backstab each other," Techno says. "Or have you forgotten about that?"
"Not at all." Quackity grins. "In fact, I'm glad you remember. Because it means you won't be surprised when I do this."
That same shiver runs down Techno's spine again, but it's about a million times worse than before. It paralyzes him, not out of fear but with supernatural intent. The lich wraps its long crooked fingers around the back of Techno's neck and flings him like a ragdoll.
The Blood God's power is probably the only thing that keeps all of Techno's bones from snapping like twigs upon impact. He pushes up onto his hands and knees, watching Quackity stand up. In his hands, he's holding a book. The book.
"I should have known you managed to steal it after all," Techno says - more to himself than to Quackity. The shapeshifter is too far away from him to hear him.
He had never heard of somebody using a lich's tome to bind said creature to their will. Seeing it before him, seeing it rise from the plane beyond like this lurking horror with rotted flesh and dented armor. It's bound to make even Techno second guess what he's up against.
He can take Quackity in a fight. But can he take Quackity and a lich in a fight?
That thought gets instantly derailed when several guards come running. The market has almost completely cleared out, any smart people decided to run for their lives at the sight of the undead. These guards are not smart people. Or maybe they're committed enough to their jobs to be blind to danger.
When the lich screeches, the cobblestone shakes beneath Techno. He gets up on stumbling legs. It's not enough. He's not in time.
Thunder slams down into the ground from above, thin pillars of it that instantly fry all six of the armored men running up to Quackity and his abomination. The smell of singed flesh reaches Techno's nostrils in the next second and he nearly gags.
Quackity laughs. "Yes! Fuck, that felt good." He's clutching at the pages.
Yeah, the last thing Techno needs is this guy going mad with power.
His sword pulses with life beneath his touch again, the Blood God's boon flooding his body. Cheap spells won't work on Techno and Quackity should know this. If the book is what's controlling the lich, then the logical course of action is for Techno to get rid of it first.
With both hands clutching the handle, he rushes forward.
Quackity is smarter than to allow Techno to rush him though. Techno doesn't even get near him before the lich bars his way, bringing its claymore down on Techno. It bounces off the shield incarnation that hovers inches from Techno's skin and protects him from harm.
"Making others fight your battles?" Techno yells. He slices at the lich, but it blocks him. "Good to know you're as much of a coward as ever."
"Why work harder when you can work smarter," Quackity says with a malicious cackle. Techno grunts, stepping back.
Something grabs his ankle.
He looks down at the guard's fingers tearing at him, blindly trying to drag himself up and staring with empty sockets. Right, Techno had almost forgotten that the lich isn't just undead, it can also rise others from the grave.
This might be an issue.
"Techno!"
A fireball comes out of nowhere and blasts away the man clinging to his leg. Techno shakes off the charred remains and looks to the right, seeing Wilbur and Tommy running up to him. Seems like Quackity made enough of a ruckus to attract their attention.
"What the fuck!" Tommy's face shifts as soon as he spots the lich, towering and terrible. Wilbur sees it too and must pale at least three shades.
It howls at the intrusion, arm outstretched and magic building in its palm. Techno watches as Tommy flinches back and Wilbur makes to grab his lute, but before they can get harmed Phil touches down in front of them. He has his wings out, bone stretching wickedly from his back and eyes bled pitch black with the use of his divine power. He deflects the lich's attack with his bow.
"Oh, would you look at that," Quackity says gleefully, "now the whole party can die together."
His palm lays flat on the book, the ink of it seemingly seeping into his skin and veins. They spread black across his arms, a zigzag pattern of corruption. The earth shakes again, but this time it's more undead pushing their hands through the earth. There are always corpses buried beneath towns. Eons of civilization lay beneath their feet and were called on by dark forces.
Techno knows it won't take long for them to be outnumbered. They need to try and cut this short.
He charges again, once more finding the lich blocking his way. Techno's sword clashes with the claymore but it wouldn't budge an inch. The strength behind the slash thumps up his arms and makes them ache.
The Blood God pulses alive with it, speaking at Techno through the slicing of enchanted metal. Tempting Techno with its power.
He knows his patron would gladly hand the full extent of its power to him. And in exchange, Techno will lose himself to the chaos and let it use his body like a puppet. He'd always resisted. The consequences are not worth the potential rewards.
The lich slams its hand down on his back and forces him to his knees.
Wilbur yells, trying to get to him. From the corner of his gaze, Techno can see his friends attempting to reach him, overwhelmed by the sudden tide of the undead. None of them are bad fighters, but there are so many enemies - some of them flinging spells. The lich calls down lightning again and makes the earth shake.
Techno slices up and tries to cut off the lich's limb that is pinning him down. It's no use.
When the sound of Wilbur's song cuts off abruptly, Techno feels his heart sink.
He turns, twisting. The lich tries to press him down, forcing him still. Techno ignores it. He turns his head to see Tommy on the ground unconscious, the marks on his skin fading out already. There is blood everywhere. Wilbur is grappling with an undead and Techno uses his sword to cast an eldritch blast and get it off him. But that moment of diverting his attention will be his doom.
Before the spell has passed his lips, the claymore is pierced through his stomach.
Pain barely registers at first, drowned out by the voices and the icy cold that seems to spread across Techno's insides. It pulls out of him and as the lich straightens Techno staggers. He'd have fallen to his knees if he didn't spin around and landed on his shoulder. He rolls out of the way of the next strike but he isn't fast enough.
What could have been a slice that chops his head clean off his shoulders instead traces across his face. Techno screams as the blade nicks his eye, blood clouding his vision.
The lich steps on his stomach and pins him down again.
But it doesn't deliver the killing blow. No, it makes him watch as Wilbur is pushed to the ground with a sword at his throat. It makes him watch as their undead companions overwhelm Phil and tear the wings from his back. It makes him watch Phil heave, curling up in agony.
Those wings are a gift from his god. They can grow back. Oh lords, how much Techno prays they can grow back.
"Well, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Quackity asks, stepping up next to the lich at his command. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this."
Techno can't even offer a quip in return with the blood flooding his mouth.
"I think I'll keep you alive and kill them first. I'd love to see your face when they bend to my will. Maybe I should get one of them to kill you, hm? Wouldn't that be sweet?" Quackity waves the book slightly. The corruption has spread to his face, blackened veins standing out horrifically against his normal skin. Wilbur is being dragged toward them.
"Maybe I'll make the bard do it," he says. "I could make him sing one last song before he strangles the life out of you."
Techno can't move, he can barely breathe. He's hurting so much his very thoughts feel like they're leaking out of his ears, but through it all he can still hear the voices.
He can hear the Blood God and its whispered promises.
And he knows this could be a mistake, an irreversible decision he can never come back from. If he doesn't, they're all going to be dead soon either way. Techno shuts his eyes at the same time that he closes his hand around the Blood God's handle.
Then he gives himself up to it.